House Has Been Abducted by Aliens? What is this?
by Spock Yard
Summary: House and Wilson end up aboard the USS Enterprise. Wilson panics, House angers people. Repeatedly. Meanwhile, Cuddy, House's team, and Amber try to figure out where they went. No slash, sorry folks. Rated for language. Please R&R!
1. Five to Beam Up

**Disclaimer:** If I owned House and/or Star Trek, would I bother writing fanfiction for them?

-Edit Note: Special thanks to Chanah Emiliania for catching a rather bad typo. It has been fixed.-

"You are so into Tracy from Accounting," accused House who had once again barged into Wilson's office for the sole purpose of harassing him.

Wilson looked up from the papers he was shuffling to see House leaning over his desk and sighed at the evil expression on his friend's face. "Should I even bother to deny that?" The oncologist looked back down at his paperwork.

"I think Amber might be a little pissed if you don't."

Wilson shot a death glare at House. "Like you care. And besides, if I do bother to deny it we'll just end up having the same annoying conversation that we always do when you're convinced that I'm lusting over someone."

"So? I like that conversation. You say you aren't into her, I point out all the evidence to the contrary, you make another feeble protest, I call you an idiot-"

"Yes, it's hard to miss the attraction of _that_," snapped Wilson.

"_I_ always have fun," said House.

"You're a jackass!" said Wilson indignantly.

"Like I haven't heard _that_ before. And the conversation _could_ be different."

"How?"

"You could actually admit that you're into her. Promise I won't tell Amber." House uttered the second sentence with such total obnoxiousness that Wilson had to resist the impulse to smack him.

In an attempt to keep his temper under control (always an important thing to do when "chatting" with House), the scowling doctor took a deep breath before responding and actually managed to keep his tone even. "I'm dedicated to Amber. You know that."

"You still haven't denied that you're into Tracy," said House in an almost sing-song voice.

Wilson stared resolutely into House's smirking face. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, trying to find some modicum of inner peace. _I must not lose my temper_, he thought to himself. When he opened his eyes again, Wilson's entire bearing was a study in tranquility. His body was relaxed and his face bore no scowl. His eyes met House's, and he said with perfect calm, "Bite me." House burst out laughing, and Wilson grinned, too. When House had sobered up somewhat, he added, "And besides, you would tell Amber that I was being unfaithful regardless of what I was actually doing."

House smiled wickedly for a silent moment. Then he repeated one word. "Would?"

Wilson groaned like a wounded beast and dropped his head onto his arms. "House, _please_," he pleaded as he looked up beseechingly at his sadistic friend.

"Oh, come on. You know that Amber would never believe that coming from me," House pointed out consolingly.

Wilson paused a moment, then groaned again and said, "Which is why you're going to get someone else to tell her...." His expression was pained as he anxiously watched House's face. When the diagnostician's response was to flash an evil smile, Wilson groaned for a third time and buried his face back into his arms.

"Who do you think Cutthroat Bitch would trust more, Kutner or Thirteen?" House asked jokingly and affected a contemplative pose. When Wilson didn't react to his sarcastic humor, House realized that Wilson was taking him seriously. He took pity on his friend and said earnestly (which for House meant honesty wrapped in sarcasm accompanied by rolling eyes), "I'm not going to rat you out to Amber…."

Wilson looked up at House and smiled. "Thanks, Hou-" He froze and looked exasperated again. "'Rat me out?' I'm innocent!"

"Sure you are."

"I love Amber!"

"Yeah, just like you loved all those other women. You know, when you were married?" Wilson scowled as House backed up into the middle of the room. "You just won't-" House was abruptly cut off when a Klingon careened into the room and in his haste knocked the doctor down.

Wilson jumped out of his chair and yelled, "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" but no one listened to him. Their attention was taken by the two phaser-wielding redshirts that had been following close behind the Klingon. They were far more polite than he, however, as they stopped just inside the room instead of running in and knocking someone else down.

The Klingon stopped on the other side of the room, and when he saw that he was at a dead end, he swore and turned around. He quickly took in his surroundings, noting the positions of the redshirts and both doctors. Seeing that there was no way to escape other than jumping off the roof just outside the other door, he swore again.

"Klingon, you are under arrest!" said one of the redshirts. "Surrender, or I will be forced to shoot!" Both redshirts aimed their phasers directly at the Klingon.

House grimaced and rubbed his bad leg. "Who let the sci-fi freaks out of the psych ward?" he muttered crossly. "Damn RPers."

"I will never surrender!" yelled the Klingon. He yelled a battle cry in Klingonese and charged at the redshirts. This was a rather stupid move, really, since they were armed with phasers and he made a rather clear target. The redshirt who had spoken before fired and hit the Klingon dead on, knocking him out. Wilson, meanwhile, stood with his mouth open in shock. House continued to sit on the floor where he had fallen. He watched the redshirts with mingled curiosity and anger, trying to figure out what was happening, but also pissed because getting shoved over had made his leg hurt rather badly.

With the threat of the Klingon neutralized, the two redshirts put their phasers away. The first one pulled out his communicator to contact the _Enterprise_, but before he could start transmitting Wilson said shrilly, "What just - is he dead?!" He pointed at the unconscious Klingon.

"I don't think so," said House. "He looks like he's still breathing." The doctor leaned forward to peer at the fallen alien.

The redshirts focused on the two doctors for the first time, and they were somewhat less than pleased with the new complication. "Oh crap, they saw everything," swore the second redshirt. "What should we do?"

"Leave them," said the first redshirt dismissively. "We can beam up with the Klingon. There won't be any evidence that we were here, so even if they tell someone about this they won't be able to prove anything."

"And what are we supposed to say to the captain? 'Here's the Klingon we captured, and oh, by the way, two 21st century guys saw us run in, fire our phasers, and beam up. If you're wondering what we did with them, we just left them there. Never mind the security breach, sir, it's not as if they can prove we were there.'" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"All right, I get it," said the first redshirt impatiently. "But what are we supposed to do? Erase their memories?"

"What?!" shrieked Wilson. "You can't erase our memories! That's - unethical!"

"I'm more concerned about getting shot with one of those things." House gestured towards the redshirts' phasers.

The first redshirt looked at House. "We're not going to shoot you." he said contemptuously. House scowled at being talked down to, but for once he decided to avoid provoking anyone and kept his mouth shut.

"We can't alter their memories-" started the second redshirt.

"Because it's unethical?" interrupted the first redshirt obnoxiously.

"Because we don't carry that equipment around in our back pockets," responded the second redshirt, annoyed.

_Is that guy new at this or something?_ _He doesn't seem to know what the hell he's doing._ House frowned slightly to himself as the two redshirts bickered. _I hope the idiot doesn't pull out that ray gun thing again. Getting shot once was quite enough. I don't need to go through _that_ a second time._

"We'll have to beam them aboard with us," concluded the second, and apparently more responsible, redshirt.

"…Agreed," said the first redshirt after a pause. But before anyone could make the mistake of considering him mature, he added, "And with any luck, once we beam aboard they'll become someone else's problem." He smirked and opened his communicator. "Landing party to _Enterprise_, five to beam up."

The second redshirt rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Immature prick."

House, however, was far more alarmed at the thought of getting carried off by these two seemingly insane people. He opened his mouth to protest, but Wilson interrupted before he could say anything. "You're going to kidnap us?!" yelped the oncologist. He had tried to remain calm, but he panicked anyway and his voice went about an octave higher than it should have been.

"That's one way of putting it," said the second redshirt. "Personally, I'd rather say that… um… you're witnesses." Wilson looked frightened. "And, uh, we need your testimony." Wilson still looked frightened. "You're going to help with our investigation of Klingon activities in this area!" He smiled brightly at Wilson, but the smile faded when his only response was a whimper.

House chuckled weakly. "Bullshit. We're your prisoners, aren't we?"

"No, not prisoners. More like - guests," he responded, trying to keep the two doctors calm.

"Yes, five," said the first redshirt ignoring the others. "Myself, Ericson, the unconscious Klingon, and two locals that saw more than they should have."

"'Saw more than they should have,'" repeated House. "And you expect me to believe that we're your 'guests'?"

"Look, it's not -" They all energized and a moment later reappeared in the _Enterprise_'s transporter room. "like that," finished the unfazed redshirt. "We just… uh, are you guys okay?" He noticed that House and Wilson both looked totally freaked out. Wilson promptly fell on his butt and stared wide-eyed straight ahead. The redshirt stepped over to him and bent down. "Hey, is something wrong? Hello? Sir?" He waved a hand in front of Wilson's face, to no response.

Meanwhile, the first redshirt quickly walked off the transporter platform and into the hall just outside the room. Although House and Wilson were too shocked to really take in what was going on, they did hear the redshirt speak with someone in the hall.

"What shall we do with the Klingon, sir?"

"Put the Klingon in the detention area. We will question him once he regains consciousness."

"Yes, sir. But what should I do with the locals we picked up?"

"Bring them to my quarters. They will be out of the way there. I will speak to them later."

"Very good, sir."

The redshirt reentered the transporter room. He escorted House and Wilson out of the room as a few other redshirts picked up the Klingon. They quickly and wordlessly walked through the ship's halls until they reached the area with the officers' rooms. The redshirt wordlessly opened a door and gestured for House and Wilson to enter. They entered quietly and looked around. Before the redshirt closed the door, he sneered at the two doctors and said in a decidedly non-reassuring tone, "Good luck." Then he locked the door and left.

Wilson shot a fearful look at his friend. House looked expressionlessly at Wilson for a few moments, then shrugged and said calmly, "He's just screwing with us." He gazed around the room, and then started limping around to get a better look at the furnishings.

Wilson watched House for some time, and then asked, "What do you think is going to happen? Do you think we're going to be okay?"

House shrugged again. "Damned if I know," he responded gruffly. His leg still hurt from getting bashed into.

Wilson stood still for another moment, and then he turned to look at the door behind him. "You think it's locked?"

"Probably." He was busy examining a chess set on a shelf.

Wilson exhaled and turned to face House. "Well, now I guess we wait." He walked over to House and joined him in looking at the room's contents.

* * *

Author's Note: I'd just like to thank my two betas and real life friends, SwiftShadow and kanboku91 (the latter of which may still not have an account yet…), for graciously helping me with my fic by using their extensive vocabularies, excellent grasp of English grammar, and ability to spot typos to make my story better than it otherwise would have been. Thank you both! Also, a special thanks to SwiftShadow for helping me come up with a good title.


	2. Suspicious Behavior

**Disclaimer:** This may come as a shock, but in the intervening time between posting chapter one and posting chapter two, I have not become the owner of either House or Star Trek.

Cuddy was annoyed. House had disappeared (_again_) along with Wilson, and of course it had to happen at the worst possible time. One of the hospital's most important financial donors had fallen sick and was demanding that House be her doctor. Never mind that her condition wasn't serious enough to warrant House (or mysterious enough to interest him anyway), no other doctor would do. So now Cuddy had to find a man who was too clever for anyone's own good and who didn't want to be found.

She sighed mentally as she walked briskly down one of Princeton-Plainsboro's many halls. _Where the _hell_ could he be?_ she thought with no little exasperation. As she turned a corner, she saw Foreman and Kutner standing and chatting. "Hey!" she called as she approached the two doctors. They turned to look at her. "Either of you seen House?"

"Nope, but then House actively tries to keep me away, so I wouldn't be the person to ask," said Foreman sardonically.

Cuddy frowned in annoyance and turned to Kutner. "How about you?"

"Yeah, this morning. I brought him coffee," said Kutner.

"Suck-up," snorted Foreman derisively.

"I'm not a suck-up!" protested Kutner. "House… scares me, is all."

"You'd better get over that," said Foreman, "because if you don't, he'll walk all over you."

"I can stand up for myself," responded Kutner quickly. Foreman snorted in response. "I can!" protested the younger doctor.

"He scares you, but you're going to stand up to him?" asked Foreman dubiously.

"What, House doesn't scare you?" retorted Kutner.

"No, I-"

"I hate to break up this little chat, but I still have to find House," Cuddy interrupted impatiently. "Kutner, do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Uh… oh, yeah! He was gonna go talk to Wilson."

"I just checked Wilson's office. House wasn't there."

"Did you ask Wilson? He might know where House is," suggested Foreman.

"Wilson wasn't there either."

"That's weird," said Kutner, "Aren't these his office hours?"

"Yes, they are," Cuddy answered irritably. "I don't suppose either of you know where Wilson is?"

"Nope," said Kutner and Foreman in unison.

Cuddy gave a long-suffering sigh. "This means that they've probably run off together."

Kutner snorted, and Cuddy and Foreman glared at him. "What?!" he asked indignantly. "The way you phrased it, it was funny!"

Cuddy scowled, and Foreman rolled his eyes. Foreman turned back to Cuddy and asked, "Why are you looking for House anyway? I know he skips clinic duty all the time, but normally that doesn't warrant this much attention."

Cuddy sighed. "There's a big financial donor for the hospital here. She's demanding House, and I need to provide him or else lose major contributions to this hospital."

Foreman looked curious. "Can I look at the chart?"

Cuddy shrugged. "Sure."

She handed him the folder which Foreman promptly opened and began flipping through. Also curious, Kutner stepped forward to try to get a look at it, too. He couldn't see it from where he was, so he tried standing on his toes. That didn't work either. He leaned even more forward and tried to look over Foreman's shoulder to catch sight of the patient's chart. Foreman turned his head and gave Kutner a "what the hell are you doing?" look. Kutner flicked his eyes up from the chart to his coworker's face and looked sheepish. "Sorry," he muttered and backed away.

Foreman rolled his eyes and went back to perusing the files. After a few seconds, Kutner tried to lean forward and look at the chart again. "Will you cut it out?!" Foreman snapped as the other doctor got too close. Kutner jerked backwards and muttered another apology. As Foreman turned back to Cuddy he shook his head disbelievingly. He read the last few files, and then looked up at his boss and said, "This is just the flu. House isn't going to take such a mundane case."

He handed the chart back to Cuddy, and Kutner tried to grab it, but only managed to grab handfuls of air. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed disappointedly. Ignoring Kutner, Cuddy took the chart back and said sternly, "Mundane or not, House is taking this case."

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think this is going to end well for you?"

"Let's see, which would I prefer? A happy, healthy donor who is _very_ impressed with the quality of our hospital-"

"Because House's behavior will _definitely_ convince her of that," interrupted Foreman.

"- and will donate more to support it," Cuddy gave Foreman a look, "or a marginally less aggravated House who will nevertheless remain a miserable, sarcastic, Vicoden-addicted asshole?" finished Cuddy.

"You want the happy rich guy!" answered Kutner. They both gave him yet another look. He opened his mouth to say something, but wisely changed his mind and preemptively shut up.

Foreman focused his attention back on Cuddy, and she addressed both of the doctors. "If either of you find out anything, tell me. Got it?"

"Yep," replied Foreman casually.

"Yes, ma'am!" Kutner saluted eagerly. Cuddy rolled her eyes and walked off to continue her search for House and Wilson.

The smile fell off Kutner's face. He glanced at Foreman who raised an eyebrow. "That," he said, "was completely idiotic."

"I was trying-" he realized he was still holding his arm up and quickly lowered it "-to be clever."

"You failed," scoffed Foreman. He turned and walked away, leaving Kutner standing alone in the middle of the hall.

Kutner sighed and looked disappointed for a moment. Then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. _Maybe there's a clue in House's office about where he went, _thought Kutner._ Or in Wilson's_.... He glanced down the halls Foreman and Cuddy had left through, and started to quickly make his way to his employer's office.

* * *

Meanwhile, back on the _Enterprise_, House and Wilson continued to wait for someone to come speak with them. They had long since gotten bored with examining the room's furnishings, interesting though they were, and had proceeded to playing various games with a deck of cards House had found in his pocket. Wilson sat cross-legged on the floor; House was on the floor across from Wilson with his bad leg stretched out in front of him. So far they had played, and in turn gotten bored with, hearts, BS, and poker. Now they were playing Go Fish.

"Any twos?" asked Wilson.

"Go fish."

Wilson took a card from the deck and looked at his hand. House watched him for a moment, and then asked, "When do you think someone will come to see us?"

Wilson shrugged and looked up at House. "Probably whenever they get around to it."

House frowned slightly. "Hm. Any jacks?"

Wilson looked back down at his hand. "Uh, yeah." He pulled out the card and handed it to House.

House smiled briefly as he put the pair of jacks aside. "I'm winning."

"It's still early. And I beat you the last two games."

"I won the first five." House stared at his hand for a moment. "Do you think they've forgotten about us?"

Wilson paused in thought for a moment. "I suppose it's possible. At any rate, they'll find us when whoever occupies this room comes back tonight to sleep."

House digested this for a moment. "Any sevens?" Wilson frowned and gave House another card. House smirked again. "Threes?"

"Go fish," said Wilson smirking. House frowned and drew a card, then smiled again when he got another pair.

"Still winning," said House obnoxiously.

"Yeah, yeah. Just wait for my come-from-behind-victory. Got any queens?" House handed him a card. "See? I'm coming back already. Any aces?"

"Go fish."

Wilson shrugged and drew a card. He paused a moment, then looked at House and asked, "Do you think this is real?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Go Fish is an actual game," retorted House.

"Not the game," said Wilson impatiently, "this… circumstance we're in."

House considered several sarcastic responses, but in the end instead said simply, "It seems real enough."

"We could be hallucinating."

House considered this for a moment, then answered without his usual sarcasm, "No… this is too vivid."

"Wasn't your hallucination two years ago really vivid?"

"True," admitted House. "I still don't think this is a hallucination. There would be inconsistencies."

"A Klingon ran into my office and got shot by two guys wielding ray guns," said Wilson indignantly. "How much more inconsistencydo you need?"

House grinned and chuckled. "You have a point."

"You? Agreeing with me? Okay, now I _know_ I'm hallucinating."

House laughed again. "Still, I don't think this is a hallucination. It's incredibly unlikely that we'd be hallucinating the same thing at the same time. Of course, if you're hallucinating you'd imagine me saying this, and if I'm hallucinating, I'd imagine you saying what you've said."

"So one of us might still be hallucinating?"

"Technically, yes."

"Technically?"

"I don't remember anything happening to me that would cause hallucinations. I certainly haven't been shot again."

Wilson chuckled. "Nothing's happened to me, either."

House sighed. "So, we really are waiting." He gazed around the room. "Want to play chess?"

"What, you have a chess set in your pockets, too?" said Wilson.

House rolled his eyes impatiently and pointed to a multi-leveled set sitting on a shelf. "_No_, with _that_."

"No! We can't use this person's stuff without permission!"

"Why not?" asked House. "It's not like he'll know."

"Unless he walks in and sees us playing. And what makes you so sure it's a guy?"

House leveled a stare at Wilson. After watching him for a few seconds, House asked, "Ever seen an episode of _Star Trek_? The original, I mean."

Wilson paused in thought. "Maybe one or two. Why?"

House smirked. "So few? It seems like the sort of thing you would've obsessed over. It's not like you had any friends to spend your time with."

Wilson rolled his eyes and ignored the comment about his supposedly nonexistent childhood friends. "I was never really into sci-fi."

"If you knew the show, you could tell whose room this is."

"I'm sure I could," drawled Wilson. "But I don't, so I can't."

House continued to smirk at Wilson. "You'll see who it is."

Wilson exhaled irritatedly and glared at House. "Can't you just tell me?"

"No," House responded cheerfully. Wilson growled in response and threw his cards onto the pile in from of him. He then proceeded to glare sullenly at House.

House began to peer around the room while collecting his cards into a pile in front of him. His eyes alighted on a computer. He smiled mischievously and shoved his deck back into his pocket, then grabbed his cane from where it was laying beside him. He stood up, although he had some difficulty doing so. "What are you doing?" asked Wilson suspiciously as his friend walked over to the computer.

House sat down at the computer and said, "I'm going to try to hack into Spock's computer." He smiled evilly at Wilson's panicked expression.

"What?!" yelped Wilson. "That's insane!"

"I'm insane," retorted House matter-of-factly. He turned to the computer and started pushing buttons.

Wilson scrambled to his feet. "Okay, okay, let's play chess. Just _don't_ mess with his computer!"

"You know, on second thought, I like this idea much more than chess." House continued to push buttons.

Wilson tried not to panic. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair nervously. "House, you're going to really get in trouble!" he warned. House ignored him. Wilson started to pace in front of the computer, but then stopped abruptly. "Wait, did you say Spock?"

"Yep."

"_He's the first officer!_" yelled Wilson. "When he comes in and finds you screwing with-"

"I thought you weren't familiar with the show?" asked House offhandedly. The computer's keys clicked under his fingers.

"I'm familiar enough to know who the most important people are. You know, the ones you shouldn't piss off," spat Wilson angrily.

"Since when have I ever cared about authority?" asked House who was being obnoxiously calm. (He was also being quite absorbed in trying to hack the computer. He didn't even follow his statement up with a crack at Cuddy.)

Wilson growled in frustration. "Fine. I give up. Go ahead and screw yourself over, but leave me out of it!" he seethed. The oncologist turned on his heel and stalked over to the other side of the room where he sat down and proceeded to glare at House.

The diagnostician looked up at Wilson and cocked his head. "You're really freaked out about all this." Wilson's only response was a glare. "Normally you're more passive." Wilson continued to glare. "This isn't usual for you." More glaring. House shrugged and went back to trying to be a hacker.

After about 15 minutes, the door to the room finally opened. Spock walked in saying, "I apologize for the delay. I was busy on the brid-" He stopped speaking when he saw House sitting at his computer typing away. "What are you doing?" he asked in his usual monotone.

"Trying to hack into your computer," House said nonchalantly. He didn't look up.

"Excuse me?" said Spock. Only a quick blink betrayed his surprise.

"You heard me," replied House, insufferable as ever.

Spock turned to look at the other occupant of his room. He met Wilson's eyes and saw a fearful expression cross the doctor's face. "I had nothing to do with this," Wilson said earnestly.

Spock looked back at House (still messing with the computer…), then back at Wilson, then back at House again. He stood silent for a moment, then nodded at Wilson and said, "I believe you." Wilson realized he'd been holding his breath, and released it, relieved.

Spock walked over to House and stood over him. House ignored him. He leaned over House a bit more. Still no response. With one hand on the back of the chair and one on the table, Spock leaned in front of House so that the doctor couldn't continue to ignore him. House leaned back in the chair and looked Spock in the face. For a few seconds, they stared silently at each other. "Interesting," said House lightly. Spock raised his eyebrows in a silent question. "You really look like Spock."

"I _am_ Spock."

"Sure, you _look_ like Spock," said House insolently, "but how can I really know? The ears could be faked easily." House gestured towards Spock's ears. He raised an eyebrow in response. "So could the eyebrows." House raised a hand to poke one of Spock's eyebrows.

Spock leaned his head away. "Do not touch me." House smirked and withdrew his hand. Spock moved back to his original position.

They stared at each other silently for a moment, then House's smirk grew into an evil smile. "Hey, guess what, Spock." Spock again raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I can use the Force!" House licked his index finger and jabbed towards Spock's face.

Spock jerked his head back, shifted his weight onto the arm braced on the table, and grabbed House's wrist with his other hand. "_Don't_," said Spock firmly, "do that again." He released House's hand, straightened, and stepped slightly away from the table. He regarded House coldly, then pushed a button on the intercom and said, "Spock here. I request that a member of security personnel come to my quarters to assist me with our two passengers."

"Aye, sir. I'll send someone right down," responded a voice that could only belong to Scotty.

"Spock out." The first officer looked back at House. "You will remain here with me so that I can question you."

"Why?" interrupted House.

"I must determine if you are working as a Klingon agent."

House looked surprised "I'm not." Spock raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"He isn't," added Wilson.

"We shall see," said Spock evenly. He turned to Wilson who now looked very worried for his friend. "The security guard that arrives will escort you to a room. You will remain there until I come to speak with you. If I determine that you are not a threat, you will be assigned that room to live in while you are aboard the _Enterprise_. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Wilson slowly uncurled from the ball he had been sitting in for the past 15 minutes and stood up stiffly. Looking worried, he tentatively asked, "Um, sir? What if you do think that I'm a threat?"

"Then you will be escorted to the brig where you will remain until the Captain decides what to do with you," responded Spock neutrally. Wilson nodded to indicate that he understood, although he still looked very worried.

It wasn't long before a redshirt arrived. Spock stopped the man at the door and whispered his orders. The redshirt nodded and muttered, "Yes, sir." As Spock strode over to where House continued to sit, Wilson walked uncertainly over to the redshirt. The security guard gestured for Wilson to leave, but before he did, the oncologist met House's eyes and shared a nervous look with his friend. Then he left with the redshirt close behind.

The tallish, blond redshirt led Wilson steadily to another living area. Having calmed down, Wilson was able to take in his surroundings, not that the scenery was particularly interesting. Identical red doors interrupted the gray walls at regular intervals, and every so often an intercom panel would dot the wall. Occasionally, another hallway would branch off or split into two halls.

The two men remained silent for a while. Wilson glanced at his guide's face, and suddenly it dawned on him who this person was. "Aren't you one of the guys that brought us aboard?"

"Yep," he replied smiling. "My name's Leif Ericson. What's yours?"

"James Wilson." He paused and looked puzzled. "Is your name really Leif Ericson?"

They turned down another hall. "Yeah… my dad was an archaeologist and my mom was an anthropologist. They both specialized in studying the Vikings. My dad proposed on an archaeological dig, and they got married on a reenactment voyage."

"Wow. They were pretty…"

"Obsessed?"

"I was going to say passionate."

Leif chuckled, "Yeah, they were. And are, despite being retired." He rolled his eyes, but obviously had great affection for both of his parents. "My sister inherited their obsession. Me, not so much."

"Doesn't sound like they would have been too pleased about that," remarked Wilson.

"Actually, they didn't mind. They're the 'follow-your-dreams' sort, although I suspect they would have preferred it if I hadn't gone flying off halfway across the galaxy." Both of them laughed.

"Yeah, parents can be weird like that," said Wilson good-naturedly. "Not that I've been in the same position."

"Your parents don't care how far away from home you travel?"

"Uh, I never had the opportunity to go quite that far."

"Oh, yeah, 21st century. It's hard for me to imagine life with such primitive technology," said Leif tactlessly. Wilson raised an eyebrow and shot him an ironic look. "Uh, no offense," amended Leif quickly.

Wilson grinned. "None taken."

They finally reached Wilson's room. Leif opened the door, and they entered. It was a relatively small room with walls the same shade of gray as those in the hallways. It had only a few pieces of furniture, all of it very basic and purely functional, with the sole exception being a random potted plant in the far corner …whichwas tinged purple. The plant was located next to a desk which was also accompanied by a blue swivel chair and a floor lamp. On the opposite side of the room from the desk was the bed. It had a red quilt with gold flecks and a single, long, cylindrical pillow. The bed was set against a section of the wall which protruded outwards to form a ledge. Drawers had been set into this protruding section, presumably for more efficient storage. The room's storage capabilities were further enhanced by a smallish, currently empty closet set into the right-hand side wall. The room also had a panel for lighting controls, the door's lock, and the intercom which was right next to the door. Near the bed on the wall opposite the door was a vent with an open/close switch.

"Well, this is it," said Leif. "I know it's really simple, but it's comfortable, and we can always bring you a few things to decorate the place, like vases or paintings or whatever."

"Um, thanks for the offer," replied Wilson politely, "but… I still don't know if I'm going to get to stay here or not."

"Are they thinking about sending you back planet-side?" asked Leif.

"No. Well, probably. I don't know!" He paused. "They think I might be a threat."

"Are you?" asked Leif. Wilson looked confused. "I mean, have you done anything bad? That would make you a definite security issue." clarified Leif.

"I saw you guys."

"That doesn't count," said Leif. "Did you do anything _deliberate_, that could be construed as subversive or dangerous in some way?"

"No, but how am I going to prove that?"

Leif smiled and said enigmatically, "Mr. Spock has his ways of finding out."

Wilson stared at the redshirt awkwardly for a few moments. Then he said hesitantly, "Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Now Leif was the one who felt awkward. "Errrm… yeaahh-"

"Because you made it sound like he was going to torture me. Or something."

"What?! No! That's not what I meant! I just - I meant that he can find out the truth for sure. He wouldn't torture you. No one here would." Leif looked shocked at the thought.

Wilson felt relieved at Leif's response, but he still had a question. "Okay… but… what _does_ he do?"

"Mind meld." Leif answered.

"…What?"

"Mind meld. It's a Vulcan thing."

"…That didn't explain anything…."

"Yeah, I don't really know how to explain it. I've never been in one. You'd have to ask Mr. Spock." Leif looked at Wilson apologetically. "Sorry I can't be more help."

"Could you at least tell me what it _is_?" asked Wilson impatiently.

"Oh, uh, well, it's something that only Vulcans can do, but they can do it with other species. The person who does it basically, uh, melds his -or her- mind with the second person's so that you temporarily have one mind."

Wilson looked skeptical. "Oo-kaay…"

Leif shrugged. "If you don't believe me, you can always ask Mr. Spock."

"From what you've said, it sounds like he's going to do this mind meld thing with me anyway."

"If he has to, yeah," said Leif. Wilson looked nervous, so the man added. "It doesn't hurt."

Wilson sighed, then said, "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Spock is fair. You won't get in trouble just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about House." Wilson noticed the confused look on Leif's face. "My friend, the other guy that came up with me."

"Ah, him." Leif's expression turned sterner. "The one Mr. Spock says might be a Klingon agent."

"He isn't!" protested Wilson.

"He must have done _something_ suspicious."

Wilson looked pained, "…He… tried to hack into Spock's computer."

"And you think he's innocent?" asked Leif in his best "how bloody stupid _are_ you?" voice.

"He is!" insisted Wilson.

Leif raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Can you be absolutely sure of that?"

Wilson's face fell. "I'd like to think so," he murmured.

Leif gave Wilson a sympathetic half-smile. "If your friend _is_ innocent, then Spock will find out." Wilson looked doubtful. "Don't worry, he'll probably mind meld with your friend. You can't hide anything in a mind meld. If he's guilty, Spock will find out. If he isn't, Spock will see that just as clearly."

Wilson nodded. Although he was still worried about House, he was satisfied that his friend would at least have a good chance of proving himself innocent.

If he _was_ innocent.

Wilson stared down at his feet, lost in thought. Leif watched the doctor silently for a few moments, then turned and left him to his thoughts. As the door shut behind the redshirt, Wilson heard the lock click. He sighed, then turned around and walked over to his new bed. Wilson sat, staring forlornly at his hands. "House, you idiot," he whispered, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

* * *

Author's Note: I want to thank my wonderful betas Swiftshadow, kanboku91, and Chanah Emiliania for their time and advice.


	3. No One Expects the Vulcan Inquisition

**Disclaimer:** I hereby readily admit to my non-ownership of House and of Star Trek. Please put the lawyers back in their cages. You won't be needing them. And don't forget to feed them their lawyer kibble. They get ornery when they aren't fed properly.

As Spock walked back over to him, House watched his friend leave the room. Wilson was obviously worried for him, but there was nothing he could do for his friend. House's own behavior would determine his fate.

And because this was House, he would probably behave like a jackass.

Spock stopped in front of the diagnostician. He didn't look angry, but there was a certain sharpness in his unwavering gaze that would make most men wilt and cooperate. This was a useful ability, and it had helped Spock on many occasions.

Needless to say, this was not going to be one of them.

House watched the first officer with the practiced nonchalance of a man who was used to having important people pissed off at him. Had he been human, Spock would have found the way House relaxed, nay, lounged in _his_ chair galling. But Spock wasn't human, and instead of anger, House's faint, amused smile was met with an intense and utterly emotionless Vulcan Death Glare.

Accustomed to having anger turn into witty banter, House was rather thrown by this reaction, although he hid it from Spock. Damned if he was going to reveal that _he_ was getting nervous. Not that Spock made it easy. "What is your name?" the Vulcan asked before House could say anything.

"Dr. Gregory House."

"You are a physician?"

"No, I'm a TV star. Why else would I spend all day in a hospital?"

"I would advise you not to adopt such a sarcastic attitude, Dr. House, especially given your current position. If you do not cooperate with me, I will be forced to send you to the brig where the captain will question you. He will not be as even-handed as I." Spock spoke in a monotone, but the implied warning was clear: _Mess with me, and you're screwed._

House stopped smirking, although his irreverent demeanor didn't change much. "Very well, what do you need to know?" he asked, cooperating for the moment.

"Why were you attempting to hack into my computer?"

"Boredom."

"Boredom?"

"Yes. Your security is really tight, by the way. But I guess it would have to be. Otherwise Kirk would be constantly stealing your po-"

"How do you know the name of this ship's captain?" Spock interrupted, uninterested in House's attempted witticisms. In fact, he seemed… well, not alarmed, he was too disciplined to show such emotion, but he did seem to betray, ever so slightly, that he was disturbed. _If this man __**is**__ working with the Klingons, how much information has he been given about us?_

House picked up on Spock's faint unease and gave a straight answer. "From Star Trek," he replied matter-of-factly. The doctor sat up straighter in Spock's chair, and his irreverence faded somewhat.

"'Star Trek'? What is that?" asked Spock.

"It's a cheesy old television show from the 60s. It's about the adventures of the _USS Enterprise_, featuring Captain Kirk, you, Scotty, Dr. McCoy, and a variety of other characters. Only… apparently you're all real…."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "There was a television show in the 1960s about us?"

"You can look it up if you don't believe me. Shouldn't be too difficult to find. It's classic sci-fi."

"I don't believe you," replied Spock flatly. "But attempting to research something which may not exist at all would waste time which I do not have."

"Then, how can I prove it to you?" Annoyance tinged House's tone.

"Dr. House, in this Star Trek show, did they ever mention something called Vulcan mind meld?" the first officer asked.

"Yes."

Spock's eyebrows flicked upwards showing his skepticism. "Fascinating. This 20th century television managed to inform you of a very intimate practice of a species that your kind will not meet for another several decades." House opened his mouth to protest the insinuation that he was lying, but Spock continued before he could say anything. "If this television show was so informative, then I suppose you know what mind meld entails?"

House wasn't quite sure where Spock was going with this, and it didn't help that he wasn't too terribly familiar with the show. But he did know some things, and he answered as best as he could while also thinking furiously to try to figure out what was going on, "Um, it's when a Vulcan melds his or her mind with somebody else's." Spock gave House as sardonic a look as a Vulcan ever would, and House realized that his answer sounded stupid. He added quickly, "What one knows, the other knows, too. And… feelings are shared, too?" He only vaguely remembered things from the Star Trek episodes he'd seen, but what he'd guessed seemed logical.

"Yes. Both knowledge and feelings are shared between the individuals involved in the mind meld," Spock confirmed.

House nodded absently, focusing on trying to understand the situation he was in. Then what he had just learned finally landed in his brain and it hit him. "You're going to mind meld with me?!" he asked, looking up at Spock suddenly.

"It is the fastest way to determine whether or not you are trustworthy since it seems that I cannot trust standard interrogation."

Sudden fear washed over House, and his wits deserted him. He stared almost blankly at Spock who stared back curiously. Suddenly, a thought flashed into the diagnostician's mind. He blinked. Then he beamed like a kid who had just received a long-sought-after puppy for Christmas. "Does this mean that I'll know all about the future from your mind?" he asked excitedly.

"No."

House's glee deflated. "Oh."

Spock flicked an eyebrow and then walked around his desk so that he could reach House. _It seems that humans were just as illogical two and a half centuries ago as they are now_, Spock mused silently to himself. _I almost wonder how they managed to survive so long_.

As Spock reached House, the doctor swiveled the chair so that he faced the first officer. "Um… is there anything I need to do?" he asked nervously.

"No, but it will be easier if you relax," Spock replied.

House morphed from nervous to sarcastic in half a heartbeat. "Yeah, I can _totally_ relax, what with you thinking I'm a spy and planning on rifling through my innermost thoughts."

"Excellent. Such self-discipline is quite admirable. I am going to initiate the meld now," responded Spock, completely straight.

House was too surprised by Spock's response to respond. In any case, it didn't matter because Spock was beginning and very shortly House was too distracted to say anything. First, Spock placed his fingers on the appropriate points on House's head. "You feel a strange euphoria, a floating sensation," he said to the doctor. "You feel my mind, open to it. What you know, I know."

Suddenly, memories began flashing between the two men, so fast that as soon as one became clear, it flitted away again back into the stream of thoughts, feelings, sounds, and images that welled up from their joined minds.

_House as a young boy, getting yelled at, hit, and then shoved outside to sleep on the lawn, shivering with cold._

_Spock as a child, sitting by an injured _sehlat_. He could smell I-Chaya's blood as the heat of the Vulcan sun beat down on them._

_A Japanese doctor, clearly hated by the others around him, diagnosing a patient correctly when no one else could figure out what was wrong. House-as-a-boy watched him, fascinated, admiring him._

_A teenage Spock arguing with his father over joining Star Fleet. Overhearing his mother trying to convince his father to let him go._

_House, lying in his hospital bed with Stacy next to him, in agony because of his leg. Asking to be put into a chemically-induced coma. Waking up to more pain and a leg that would no longer function properly._

_Spock, sitting in the Sick Bay completely blind, listening to Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel arranging to take care of him._

_Stacy returning with her husband. She and House alone in a hotel room kissing. House telling Stacy to stay with her husband instead of with him._

_Spock standing in a frozen wasteland, saying goodbye to a woman wearing animal furs. Love and emotional pain, vastly stronger than he could ever imagine feeling, flooded him._

_Foreman quitting, House firing Chase, Cameron quitting. Arguing with Cuddy over who to hire for the new team. Foreman returning and Kutner, Taub, and Thirteen getting hired._

_Spock being made first officer under Kirk. Them fighting side by side. Kirk, killed by Spock's own hand. Kirk, really alive. Happiness. Friendship._

The flood of memories began to slow as Spock found the relevant ones from the last few days.

_House in the clinic, trying to convince a woman that her baby only had a cold, not the flu or some other serious problem. He got impatient, made her cry._

_House was in Cuddy's office, getting reprimanded._

_House back in the clinic, this time with a different patient. A young man with an infected pierced ear. House called him an idiot._

_House was in Cuddy's office, getting reprimanded again._

_House was back in the clinic, but without a patient. Cuddy came by and he jumped behind the Nurse's Station to hide. Wilson found him and gave him a look._

_Cuddy finding House behind the Nurse's Station. She forced him to get back to work._

_House with another patient, an old woman who had come for a follow-up exam. House telling her that coming in so often for so many follow-ups is unnecessary. The old woman batted her eyes and flirted with him in response. He was trying to finish the exam and get her to leave. The woman insisted on reading him a love poem._

Spock could not prevent some of his own recent memories from slipping into the stream as well.

_Spock working quickly at a computer terminal on the bridge, trying to determine the course of the Klingon ship. Where was it going?_

_The ship sped up to Warp 6. Kirk ordered Sulu to speed up to match._

_Chekov reported getting a lock on the ship. Now his computer could scan it, maybe get some more information._

_Spock's computer terminal finished calculating. The ship was heading for a red giant star, the partner of a black hole. Why were the Klingons heading there?_

_House was with another patient in the clinic. It was the end of the day, he wanted to leave. The person kept asking stupid questions, he got angry and snapped at her. She started sobbing and ran out._

'_Keptin, I am getting strange readings from near the black hole,' reported Chekov._

_Spock flicked some switches on his own computer to look at the readings himself. 'Captain, I believe it is a worm hole.'_

'_Could the Klingons be heading for it?' asked Kirk._

_House left the examining room, whistling a cheery tune and happy to be rid of that annoying patient._

_The computer finished calculating. 'My computer calculations conclude that they are, Captain.'_

_Cuddy blocked the door with the patient to keep House from leaving._

_Suddenly, the Klingon ship dove towards the strange little pocket of warped spacetime. They flew through a cloud of gas and debris, and then they vanished._

_House was in Cuddy's office. She forced him to apologize to the girl. Then she reprimanded him. Again._

'_Keptin, I can no longer read the Klingon ship. They have entered the worm hole, sir.'_

'_Where does the hole let out?' asked the captain._

'_The only way to determine that would be to follow them into it,' replied Spock._

'_Then follow them,' Kirk ordered._

_House eating dinner with Wilson, complaining about Cuddy, then mocking Wilson for his relationship with Amber._

_The _Enterprise_ flew down into the worm hole. It rocked wildly from the turbulence._

_Then they were clear._

_Earth hung before them, a blue-green jewel set in the blackness of space. The Klingon ship, an infinitesimally small speck by comparison, flew down towards the planet._

_House and Wilson together in Wilson's office, talking. _

'_Captain, a Klingon has been beamed down from their ship.'_

'_Send security personnel down after it, then.'_

_A Klingon running into Wilson's office, followed by two redshirts._

_House and Wilson getting beamed aboard the Enterprise._

_Spock and Kirk firing at the Klingon ship, eventually forcing it to fly off._

_House and Wilson playing cards._

_House and Wilson, sitting in Spock's room, bored. House wanting to play chess, but Wilson not letting him. House deciding to hack into Spock's computer… because he was bored…_

Spock broke off the mind meld, and he and House blinked at each other. "Whooaahhh…" House was still woggle-eyed from the experience.

"Dr. House? Are you all right?" asked Spock. "There should not have been any adverse effects, but I could have underestimated the effects of the physiological changes that a mind meld incurs."

"No, no, I'm fine…. Just… overwhelmed."

Spock nodded. "Understandable."

House sat back into Spock's chair and tried to digest all the information that he had just received. Out of the jumble of memories, nothing had really made any sense. _Spock as child? What was that furry thing? A _sehlat_, I think it's called… I-Chaya? What the hell was all that? And some of those things… when Spock was blind, that was in Star Trek… They were chasing a Klingon ship… to Earth? _Suddenly, something clicked. "Wait, Klingons are attacking Earth? _My_ Earth?" asked House, shocked.

"They are planning something, but we do not yet know what," replied Spock.

House frowned in thought. Then he said, "But why would they attack Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital? It's not of any grand importance to the human race… is it?"

"To my knowledge, no, but we do have people looking into Earth's history to see what significance it might have. It is possible that someone of future importance will be in your hospital for some period of time."

House digested this. "What about Wilson?"

"What about him?"

"That Klingon ran into his office…. Oh, wait, no. He was running from those redshirts at that point." House thought some more. "Could there be any other Klingons in the hospital?"

"No, we checked. He was the only one."

"Right, your sensors picked up just the one." Then he looked up at Spock and said, "So… I guess this means you trust me now?"

Spock nodded slowly. "Partially. I can conclude from the mind meld that you are not an enemy agent and not likely to become one. However, you are certainly not trustworthy if you consider hacking the computer of an unknown and potentially dangerous individual to be an acceptable outlet for boredom."

House smirked. "How does that make me untrustworthy?"

"Because you are a fool. Also, if you were to actually gain access to secret information, that would be a problem."

"I am _not_ a fool." Spock raised an eyebrow. "I knew what I was doing," House said indignantly.

Spock flicked his eyebrows up and replied, "Evidently not, since you seem to have been completely unsuccessful at hacking."

House scowled. "Well, maybe if I'd had more time…."

"If you had gotten access to any classified information in my computer, I would have been forced to detain you in the brig, regardless of the results of the mind meld."

House slowly grinned. "_But_ – what if I hacked into a _Klingon_ computer?"

"I am a computer specialist, Dr. House, and therefore would be the logical choice to send to attempt to infiltrate any Klingon computer systems. Shall I escort you to your shipboard quarters now?"

House blinked. "Erm… sure?"

Spock nodded, then turned and strode to the door. House grabbed his cane from where he had leaned it against Spock's desk, stood, and limped after Spock, still somewhat bewildered by the sudden change of topic.

Spock strode briskly down the same corridors that Leif had led Wilson down. He quickly became aware that House was lagging behind. Without stopping, Spock called over his shoulder, "Please keep up, Dr. House."

House had been looking around curiously at his surroundings and had been walking fairly slowly. He sped up to his usual pace and continued after the first officer.

After several minutes of traveling silently through the halls, they reached House's new room. Spock opened the door and gestured for House to enter ahead of him. As Spock crossed the threshold behind him, House took in his new room. It was virtually identical to Wilson's. There was a red-quilted bed, a desk and chair, a set of drawers, a lamp, and an empty closet. The only difference was that his random potted plant had orange swirls and tiny, red flowers instead of large, purple-tinged leaves.

Once he had finished checking out his new room, House turned to Spock who proceeded to brief him on ship-board life. "These shall be your living quarters while you are living on the _Enterprise_. Extra clothing will be brought to you shortly. Down the hall and to the right is the men's bathroom for the living quarters in this and the adjacent halls. The mess hall is on the level above us. To get to it, go back up the hall we just came through, walk past the first intersection and walk straight until you reach the turbolift to take you there. Once there, the mess hall is straight down the hall in front of the turbolift. You are permitted to go nearly anywhere on the ship, within reason. For example, you may not enter anyone else's quarters without permission. I would advise staying out of the engineering areas so that you do not get in the way of the crew, although if you stay out of the way and they do not mind your presence, you may visit. You also may not go to the bridge unless you are told to do so, or unless there is an important reason for it." Then he added, "And no, boredom is not sufficient justification."

House smirked wryly. "Boredom is _always_ sufficient justification."

"No, it is not," responded Spock in an entirely Spock-like manner. "You may now do whatever you wish, but I would recommend waiting for your clothing and other such necessities to arrive first. Do you have any questions?"

House thought a moment, then replied, "No - wait, yes. Do you know where Wilson is?"

"Your friend, who arrived with you?" House nodded. "Yes, he is directly across the hall from this room."

House looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yes. I thought that it would be best for the two of you to be situated near each other. Do you have any other questions?"

House shook his head and said, "No."

"Then I shall leave to speak with Dr. Wilson. If you are having trouble with anything, any member of the crew will be willing to help, provided that he or she is not busy with something. I would also recommend that you be polite." Spock raised an eyebrow in a droll warning. House rolled his eyes. "Also, you and Dr. Wilson will be meeting with the head officers of the _Enterprise_ tomorrow after breakfast. I will escort you to the conference room at the appropriate time. Please be prepared." He then turned and left.

"I'm going to meet the head officers? Ooh, _that _should be interesting," House said to himself. He stood in the middle of his room and took another look around it, thinking about what to do next. "Explore the ship, or wait for clothes and stuff? _Definitely_ don't want to wait for the stuff…. Probably should, though." He made a face. "_Definitely_ don't want to wait for the stuff…. Hm… explore the ship, or wait for Wilson?" He cocked his head in thought, and then made a decision. He left his room.

* * *

Wilson was lying on his bed in an almost-doze. It had been a long time since he had been escorted from Spock's room to his own. At least for this wait he had a soft bed to lie on instead of the floor. In any case, he was far less nervous now. He knew that he was safe. As for House, Wilson saw two distinct possibilities for what was going on with him given the amount of time that had passed.

Possibility #1: House had found some clever, yet apparently time-consuming way of proving his innocence. Sure, he'd never been able to convince Cuddy of his innocence, but this time he had one advantage: House actually _was_ innocent. Or at least, Wilson thought he was. He certainly couldn't see House being an undercover agent for any operation not involving a medical mystery. He also couldn't see the bosses of any such operation not killing House two hours in out of sheer frustration. Either way, Mr. Spock would be able to figure it out. Leif had said that he would mind meld with House, and besides, these people must have some sort of technology to prove someone's guilt or innocence. They were from a couple centuries into the future, after all.

Possibility #2: House had managed to piss off Spock and enough other crew members to the point that they finally snapped and killed House, and in the ensuing celebrations had forgotten all about Wilson.

Wilson smirked at the thought. Then his empty stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and that it was now long after he normally would have had lunch. He grimaced and glanced towards the door, hoping that Spock would arrive soon, and lo and behold, in walked the science officer. Wilson grinned a little and sat up.

"Dr. James Wilson?" said Spock, more to confirm the man's identity than to ask his name.

Wilson stopped in mid-nod looking confused. "How do you know- Oh, House must have told you."

"Actually I got the information by mind melding with Dr. House," corrected Spock.

"Leif said that you would probably mind meld with him. What exactly _is_ mind melding, anyway?"

"Ah, evidently you are not as familiar with Star Trek as Dr. House."

Wilson grinned at the remark about Star Trek. "Did you find out about Star Trek from mind melding, or did you just have a really interesting conversation with House?"

"He mentioned it while I was questioning him. Apparently, he was able to learn about mind meld from this show."

"Ah."

"In any case, mind meld is an ancient Vulcan technique in which the melder fuses his or her mind with the other participant's mind temporarily so that information can be shared."

"Uh-huh. So, um…"

"Yes?"

"Well, how did it go?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is House innocent, or…"

"I have determined that he is not a Klingon agent," said Spock, and Wilson exhaled in relief. "However, I will keep him under surveillance as I believe that he may still cause problems. I am also considering assigning him an escort to keep him out of mischief."

Wilson started laughing.

"Why do you find this so amusing?" asked Spock innocently.

"Because," replied Wilson, "our boss, the Dean of Medicine Dr. Cuddy, is _always_ trying to keep House in line. She never can. So, good luck with that." He kept laughing.

Spock flicked an eyebrow. "Most illogical." He then told a still-grinning Wilson the same information about the ship that he had told House. "Do you have any questions?" asked Spock after he had finished his spiel.

"Uh, yeah," responded Wilson. "Should House and I report to anywhere tomorrow morning after breakfast? I assume you want us to help out somehow while we're here."

"It has already been decided that you and Dr. House will meet with Captain Kirk, myself, Dr. McCoy, and possibly also Chief Engineer Scott tomorrow morning. I will escort you to the conference room after you have eaten. As for giving you and Dr. House jobs aboard the _Enterprise_…" Spock considered this for a moment. "That is a logical suggestion. I was not intending for either of you to do any work, but perhaps keeping you occupied would be best. Particularly in Dr. House's case."

Wilson chuckled. "Yeah, letting House get bored is pretty much an invitation for disaster."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have noticed. This evening I shall speak with Dr. McCoy about whether or not he thinks you should work with him. Personally, I think having the two of you work in Sick Bay would be most logical, given that you are both doctors. I shall give you your assignments tomorrow during the meeting. Do you have any other questions?"

Wilson shook his head. "Nope."

"Then I shall leave to speak with Dr. McCoy."

"Mind if I follow you out?" asked Wilson as Spock turned to leave. "I'm going to go to the mess hall for dinner. I haven't eaten all day." He pulled a rueful face.

Spock shrugged. "It is of no concern to me. You may now do as you please."

Wilson gave a slightly embarrassed half-nod in response as Spock turned to the door. He followed a few steps behind as Spock walked out. This resulted in him nearly colliding with Spock when the first officer stopped abruptly.

House looked up from where he was sitting in the middle of the hall, directly in front of the door, playing solitaire and eating a sandwich which, evidently, he had decided would be his dinner. He swallowed the bite of sandwich he was chewing on and said, "About time. I was getting worried that you'd been eaten by Orion Catdogs or something."

"Illogical. There is no such thing as an Orion Catdog, and it would be highly unlikely that a predatory species of any sort could get onto the ship and eat two people without anyone noticing."

House rolled his eyes. "I was being sarcastic."

"Sarcasm is also illogical."

"You've been sarcastic," protested House.

"Have you observed this yourself?" asked Spock.

House shook his head. "No, but it was on-"

"If it was on Star Trek, then it was probably the actor overacting," suggested Spock reasonably.

House raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Yeah, right," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, it is most likely correct," said Spock who had heard House clearly. He then stepped over the rather surprised-looking doctor. Before walking off towards Sick Bay and Dr. McCoy, he said, "Good night, gentlemen. I shall speak with you again tomorrow morning during the meeting."

Both doctors watched him leave. "Speak with us about what, I wonder?" asked House.

Wilson shrugged. "Probably about whatever we'll be doing while we're here." He looked down at House who had started to collect his cards with his empty hand. "I see you found the mess hall okay."

"Obviously," responded House. He took a bite of his sandwich. He chewed for a bit, then swallowed and looked down at his sandwich. "I wonder what the limits of the replicators are."

"The what?"

"The replicators. They make food. And apparently other stuff."

"'Other stuff'?" repeated Wilson dubiously. "Like what?"

House shrugged. "Stuff." He took another bite of his sandwich.

"Oh, well thank you for being specific."

"It's not my fault. That's all the guy who was helping me said."

"Wait, _you_ got help?" asked Wilson, surprised.

"He volunteered," retorted House. He glanced up and saw Wilson's raised eyebrow and smirk. "What?!"

"You accepted help. That's not like you," said Wilson in that smugly psychoanalytical way of his. "Could this be a sign that you're becoming more humble?"

House locked eyes with Wilson. "Listen to me very closely," he said sternly. "I. Was. _Hungry_. I. Wanted. A. Sandwich."

Wilson grinned. "Ah, I see. Hunger overcomes pride. And I thought that getting in trouble with Spock might have made you lose some of your arrogance."

"_Me_? Lose arrogance simply because an authority figure got angry? It's like you don't even know me." House pretended to act affronted.

Wilson smirked, then started to chuckle. "Come on, House. I want to get something to eat."

House stood up with some difficulty, and then the two doctors started to make their way to the mess hall.

* * *

Author's Note: First of all, sorry for the long delay! I was busy, then I was lazy, then I had to rewrite the chapter like 3 times, then I was lazy, then I was busy, then I was lazy… erm… you get the picture, I think. Apologies!

Next, I once again thank my betas kanboku91, Swiftshadow, and Chanah Emiliania for their time and advice. Without them, my fics would be ungrammatical, nonsensical garbage.

With dog fur all over them.

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed my story. Taking your time to write reviews means a lot to me. That they're all positive is even nicer! (not that constructive criticism _wouldn't_ be gratefully accepted, it's just that apparently I haven't screwed up yet! XP)

Aw hell, thanks also to everyone who has simply read my story! I hope you all continue to enjoy it (or start enjoying it, if you haven't been…). ^_^


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